THE ASSESSMENT by Samyia Ahmed The assessment .... Tick - TopicsExpress



          

THE ASSESSMENT by Samyia Ahmed The assessment .... Tick tick, tick tock.......the repetition blocked out the chaotic clashing, clattering and clamouring of the world that enveloped and in caged me. Its rhythm soothed every part of my being.....tick tock.....I rocked to its pendulum and its predictable pattern....swinging back and forth, feeling its perfect pace...... Tick tock, tick tock. It wasnt to last long, however, as I knew they would interrupt, coming along with their click pens to scribble down their findings. Frantically trying to figure out what was wrong. Masked with their social smiles, perfumed skin and high heeled power enhancers! Somehow they assumed that they could fix me....an impossible task, for how could they fix that which wasnt broken? Yes, I was unspoken, in their world, but then again, silence comes when there is no one there to listen and the pain and frustration of screaming onto deafened ears just becomes too much. So they assumed and assessed according to their own doctrine of social acceptance and rules..... Tick tock, tick tock.... Ooohhhh those heals and heavy footsteps of those trying to make their impression. Their beaming faces smiling down at me. It all made me feel ill... Didnt they know that I could see past all that? That their social games had no meaning to me and that I could see it all as a farce? A performance in the stage of life, didnt they see it as I did?? ....CLICK! , hhhhhhhhmmmmm, SIGH!!!, scribble ...........I guess not!!! I screamed louder on the inside. So loud, in fact, that I found it unbearable at times to listen to the thundering , cluttered stanzas that played in my head....my heart would race and all I could do was freeze in a cold sweat of shock, unresponsive even to my own senses. Numb from the inside out. Tick?? All their medications , all their therapies!... Art therapy, sand therapy, music therapy, face tapping!!!... Hours of experts , who charged for their knowledge! And all for what?....,.words,words,words....and yet words seemed to have no meaning in their world, where appearances seemed to outweigh talent and thought. Words were merely there to fill in the gaps.... Idol minds filled up with idol chatter! If they filled their void, then sure what else mattered?! Tick tock, tick... BEEEEP.... CRASH!!...., images clashed and crashed in my mind. Broken pieces jumbled and I tried to put them back together in some sensical pattern. My heart thumped my chest, resonating, trying to be heard over all the congestion... I needed to escape the storm that was violently tearing me inside. Everything around me became surreal ... Lines on the tiles, faded patterns, the sock on the floor... All now suddenly so startlingly clear, and yet I couldnt make out where I was or any of the faces that now surrounded me. I was stuck inside myself, screaming inside, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. After all, where does a person run from themselves? .. My heart began to pound even louder, faster and all the noise merged into one, tangled mess- stuck on an unknown frequency.....SCREEEECH ..... I needed to feel part of myself again , reconnect, but no matter how hard I pinched, bit, screamed or kicked I could not reconnect to me..... Click clack click.... No!!! No!!! Not those dreaded power enhances!!! Shuffling and muffling as they held me down and restrained the physical me. It was for my own protection , after all?! -Surface solutions for surface beings! One step forward, ten steps back!!!!!!! More medications, more observations, more recommendations.....STOP!!!! Why were the drums so silent? Why couldnt they hear the rhythm of the beat that was already there before their social instruments interrupted the original, raw and natural universal orchestra of life? If only .... But then, on day as I rocked to my pendulum, he came to see me.....without a pen, without that eager social smiling mask . He wasnt there to impress or dress to their prefixed theories and insoluble solutions. He lacked the visage of arrogance and pride and he sat there with me in silence. And slowly he began to listen........ Tick tock,tick tock......... He watched and observed my patterns and left his assumptions and book read theories aside. After all, what book could teach anyone what it is to simply be?..... And, then, just as any good teacher or artist, he let things flow and find their way. He left it to me to lead as he gently and carefully guide, making sure I fell and recovered at my own pace. He placed challenges that were structured to my beat, my rhythm ... It was my canvas. He never left a gap, never assumed or gave up. Continuously adding colour and detail, building and creating my world. Yet all the while, each brush stroke was added just with the right tension and in my time. ... He listened to my rhythm ..... Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....... As a spider delicately, yet perfectly spins her web, my world became a clear and purposeful structure, yet always still so very fragile. Each strand was carefully examined and connected to the next. As each of the strands developed and expanded all linking out from the core, I strengthened from the inside out...... The canvas will not dry until my journey is over..... A life long journey..... A battle that can either beat you or create you. Each canvas has its own image...Autism..... Uniquely, yet ironically individual. Where no two pieces are the same, yet all are connected in the bigger universal picture. Where colour and vibrancy contradict the back and white spectrum of a disorder that brings order to an already chaotic world.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Oct 2013 01:17:26 +0000

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